Minerva's Revenge
by whitetiger91
Summary: It would be nice to be able to eat breakfast without owl droppings and bragging colleagues, wouldn't it? Minerva certainly thinks so.


**Minerva's Revenge**

Minerva sighed, staring into her bowl of porridge. She had been looking forward to breakfast, the warm oats perfect for such a cold February morning. Now, her appetite was ruined, and she pushed the bowl of white slop away.

"Such a fine morning, don't you think, Minerva?" the source of her annoyance said.

She took a deep breath and turned to Gilderoy Lockhart. He was grinning at her, his perfect white teeth almost blinding her. She forced her lips upwards in a smile, wary that it probably looked more like a grimace.

"Good morning, Gilderoy," she said, the smile very strained.

Gilderoy didn't seem to notice, his gaze now focused upon the ceiling. She cringed when she realised why: hundreds of owls came soaring through the Great Hall at that moment, various letters and parcels clutched in their sharp talons and beaks. Several dozen were headed straight for the staff table, and as one skidded across the table, she was glad she had moved her bowl when she had.

"All for me?" Gilderoy said, his eyes wide. He reached for one of the envelopes, still grinning, and tore it open. "Ah, how sweet, another Valentines."

Minerva rolled her eyes. He was already tearing into another of the envelopes—a bright pink one this time—not caring one single bit that several owls were now strutting up and down the staff table disturbing the other Professors' breakfast. A tawny owl was currently trying to steal Filius' toast with no help from Hagrid who was encouraging it.

"I wasn't expecting all these, you know," Gilderoy said, his voice unnecessarily loud. He was holding up the piece of parchment, and Minerva could see his eyes darting around to see if anyone was watching. "My, my, such love!"

She leant over to see the letter herself, not surprised in the least that she recognised the purple, sloping writing.

"Who is it from?" she asked.

Gilderoy blinked and looked at her, his cheeks turning a little red. He folded the letter up and tucked it into his pocket. "Oh, just a fan," he said.

"Not a girlfriend, then?"

The blond cleared his throat and gave a small chuckle. "Oh, no, no, no… You see, I'm far too busy with my work to have a girlfriend; don't want them getting too attached when I'll always be putting myself in danger. Can you imagine how devastated they would be if something happened to me?"

Minerva raised an eyebrow and peered into his face. Surely, he wasn't being serious? There was no sign of joking in his eyes, however, and he shook his head slowly.

"No, my dear Minnie, I'm afraid that I must make the selfless decision and sacrifice love for my career," he continued with a drawn-out sigh. Then, his grin returning, he gestured around at the owls still lining up with envelopes addressed to him. "Besides, how could I choose just one Valentine from all of these lovely ladies that write to me? It seems impossible!"

She looked at them, resisting the urge to roll her eyes again as the man clapped. He picked up another envelope and ripped it open, tossing the rubbish to his right. The envelope landed on Severus' lap. Severus glared at Gilderoy, the spoon he held halfway to his lips. Gilderoy was still oblivious, chortling as he read the letter.

"Oh yes, they are quite the truth teller," he said. "I am the most modest person I know, but even I have to admit my eyes are like sapphires."

Minerva shrugged at Severus, who huffed and dropped his spoon into his bowl. He stood up and swooped away from the table, muttering something about him preferring to teach dunderheads than spend another minute with self-absorbed lunatics. She turned her attention back to the letters. It was interesting to see that they all appeared to be written in the same handwriting, the only difference being the ink colour ranging from pastel pink to deep purples. One of the envelopes contained sparkly pink glitter that exploded across the table.

Brushing some of the glitter away from her, Minerva cleared her throat and stood up. "Well, I hope you have a lovely morning, Gilderoy," she said as politely as she could possibly manage.

She slid off the bench and straightened her robes. Her stomach growled, but it was not worth trying to eat breakfast this morning, owls aside. Besides, she knew she had a free period right before lunch, and would probably be able to get to the Great Hall before anyone else. Checking once more that no glitter covered her robes, she began to walk away.

"So, Minnie, how many Valentines have you gotten this year?"

Minerva froze, foot in the air, as Gilderoy's voice rang through her ears. She took a deep breath, counting to three before she turned around. She plastered a smile on her face, looking at the man.

"None yet, Gilderoy, none yet," she said.

Gilderoy pressed a hand to his mouth, looking shocked. "None? Not even one?"

Her lips twitched and she shook her head. "Not all of us are as lucky as you," she said.

The blond _tsk_ ed and shuffled a pile of letters. "No, sadly I don't think many are," he said. "But don't you worry, I am sure someone will write you one day."

She gritted her teeth, her smile more strained than before. Dipping her head, she turned away and strode from the hall, fists balled by her sides.

She really did not care that she hadn't received a Valentine, not at all. In fact, she was happy that no one had, for it wouldn't—couldn't—be from Elphinstone. No, it was the fact that Gilderoy continued to be deluded enough to think people adored him that was getting on her nerves. Something needed to be done about him, and as his voice carried across the hall, still gloating about the many owls still flying to him, an idea struck her.

If he wanted a fan, then she would give him one.

* * *

"Good morning, Minnie," Pomona said with a smile. Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she added, "You're here earlier than usual. Almost as though you were keen on finishing breakfast quickly."

Minerva just raised an eyebrow, taking her seat. "I couldn't possibly know what you mean," she said.

Pomona's smile grew as she looked up and down the table. Minerva followed her gaze, seeing that the majority of the staff were hurriedly gobbling down their food, eyes trained on the hall door. When it opened, Poppy leapt up and dropped a piece of toast, only to sit back down when she saw it was only a student entering.

Minerva smiled, noticing that Gilderoy was yet to enter the room. She picked up a spoon, and revelling in the smell of fresh porridge, began to eat. It was warm and comforting, and she continued eating even when the hall door opened and the insufferable blond strutted inside.

A low groan filled the table, and a few of her peers hurriedly got up from the table, making excuses that they had work to catch up on before lessons. Minerva nodded a goodbye to Pomona as the woman fled the table, mumbling something about shrubs needing pruning.

"Ah, what a wonderful day!" Gilderoy said, taking a seat next to her.

She swallowed a mouthful of porridge and smiled at him. "I believe it will be," she said.

Gilderoy grinned and looked up at the ceiling. As though summoned, a loud screech echoed around the hall, and the first of several owls swooped into the room.

"Oh dear, looks like more love letters," Gilderoy said. His voice sounded sad, but his grin betrayed his delight.

Minerva continued to eat her breakfast, eyes focused on her bowl. Every now and again, she would glance sidelong at Gilderoy, watching as he snatched up the letters the owls dropped. She didn't even mind when one of the creatures sat in front of her bowl, golden eyes staring at her food; she simply pulled her bowl closer.

"Such lovely, lovely people," the blond said. "Oh, how lucky I am to be so admired."

It wasn't until she saw him pick up a creamy enveloped that she stopped eating. The owl in front of her hooted and dug its head into the bowl, but Minerva turned her attention to Gilderoy. He looked puzzled as he flipping the envelope over, evidently trying to find the sender's address.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, smiling at Gilderoy.

The man looked up, his eyes wide. "Oh, er, no," he said.

She watched as he turned back to the envelope and slowly tore it open. He unfolded the matching cream parchment, eyes moving back and forth as he read the emerald green cursive. A confused smile covered his face.

"My, my, you really do have many admirers," Minerva said, peering over at the letter.

Gilderoy could only nod, still staring at the letter.

Minerva's smile grew and she stretched. Standing up, she said, "Well, I must head off now, Gilderoy. Have a pleasant morning."

The man nodded again, scratching his gelled hair with one hand. Little did he know, it was only the beginning.

* * *

"No running in the halls. Mr Longbottom, control that toad of yours. Weasleys, I hope that is not the toilet seat you are holding; it belongs in the bathroom. Do not make me have to take another ten points away for lack of hygiene," she said.

"Yes, Professor," the Weasley twins chorused, not at all looking sorry.

Minerva made a mental note to check that they followed her order as she passed them, heading towards her own classroom. She couldn't stay to reprimand them, however, as a large smile was threatening to break out on her lips. Her plan was working nicely, and if her theory was correct, she knew she would soon be able to enjoy breakfast—let alone other meals—in peace. Still, the children didn't need to know that.

"Mr Zabini, tuck in that shirt. It may be only morning, but that is no excuse to appear scruffy," she said.

The Slytherin pulled a face but did as she said. It was just as well, for her lips were twitching upwards as the sound of someone calling her name met her ears.

"Minnie! Minnie… Professor, wait!"

Minerva took a moment to school her face into a neutral expression and turned around. Gilderoy was fighting his way towards her, pushing through the sea of tired students. She tapped her foot as she waited for him to reach her.

"Yes, Gilderoy, how may I help you?" she asked.

Gilderoy was panting and paused to catch his breath. She could see a letter clutched in his hand, and once again, the smile threatened to make its way to her face.

"Heh, you sure do walk quick," he said, still panting. He looked up at her and smiled. "I'm glad I caught up."

"I'm afraid I am quite busy at the moment," she said, pretending to look at her watch. "Is everything quite alright?"

The man glanced around them, frowning slightly as he saw a few curious students staring at him. "Yes, er, well, I had rather hoped that we could have a quick chat before class. I, well, would like your opinion on something."

Minerva raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Could we, er, duck into the room quickly?" he asked, his frown deepening at the students.

She nodded and he smiled. Opening the door to one of the empty classrooms nearby, he entered the room. Minerva rolled her eyes at the way he didn't hold the door open for her, let alone allow her to enter first, but followed himself inside anyway.

Gilderoy began to pace the room, glancing every now and again at the letter in his hand. She watched him for a moment before clearing her throat.

"What is it, Gilderoy?"

The blond finally stopped pacing and turned to face her. He swallowed thickly. "I have this witch who has been sending me several letters lately—"

"I thought you had several witches writing to you?" she interrupted.

Gilderoy's cheeks turned red and he stared down at his feet. "Yes, well, I do," he said a little too quickly. "But this particular which is, er, getting a little too attached."

Minerva lifted her sleeve to her mouth, hiding her smile. She pretended to clear her throat, trying to appear nonchalant, before she speaking. "Oh?"

"She keeps telling me how wonderful my work is."

"But it is, isn't it? I don't think I've ever met anyone who had defeated a Banshee on his own," she said, watching as Gilderoy's cheeks burned.

" I think she wants to get married!" he blurted, looking back up at her. His large eyes were wide and tiny beads of sweat covered his forehead. "What do I do?"

Minerva finally allowed her smile to show and clapped her hands. "Oh, how wonderful! You must be very excited!" she exclaimed.

"Are you kidding me? I can't get married! I'm too young. She might find out that I'm a fr—er, she might not be as in love with me as she thinks," he said with a gulp.

"I understand; you're worried that she might not be the one for you since you haven't met face to face yet. Don't you worry though, I'm sure you'll impress her."

Gilderoy looked horrified and shook his head. "No—you don't—I—I can't get married! Not to her, not anyone!"

Minerva shook her own head and held up her hands. "Alright, alright, no pressure then," she said.

"So what do I do? You seem to be the olde—most experience woman in this castle, how do I tell this witch to stop obsessing with me?"

She pretended to think for a moment, ignoring his insult. She had hoped he would react this way to her continuous letters, knowing that by the forty-fifth letter that week he would begin to be concerned that someone other than himself was interested in his every movement. Interested enough that they began to request itemised lists of his wardrobe, diet and books he read. It was probably a waste of parchment and ink, but the look on Gilderoy's face was certainly worth it.

Finally, she put on a grim expression and said, "Well, then, you may have to tell her to stop writing to you. Let her know that you have no time for another person in your life at this moment."

"That's it? But what if she doesn't take the hint?"

"Oh, she will trust me," Minerva said.

Gilderoy nodded slowly, a small smile lighting up his face. "Yeah, yeah, that could work."

Minerva let him revel in his relief for a moment before initiating phase two of her plan. "However, I must advise you that you should also tell all the other women to stop writing to you as well. You don't want to give this witch the wrong impression, do you?"

Gilderoy's face dropped and she frowned. "Why would I—they have to stop writing? This witch wouldn't know they were writing… would she?"

Minerva shrugged. "Well, it depends on how much she loves you. She doesn't keep a track of your life, does she?"

Gilderoy gulped. "Possibly? I don't even know where she lives; there's no return address. What if she lives in Hogsmeade, and has someone spying on me?"

"I'd strongly advise you then to tell all your other fans to also cease their letters, then, and fast. There is nothing worse, I tell you, than a jealous witch. I just hope you manage to write to them all in time; there were quite a few fans you had."

With a sigh, he said, "I suppose you're right. I am sure I will somehow get into contact with them all."

Minerva smiled at him, gesturing to the door. "I'm sure you'll manage. I'll take that letter for you and write to the witch that, regretfully, you must cease correspondence Now, I'm afraid I must head off to class."

Gilderoy handed the letter over. "Oh, thank you!"

She walked out of the classroom, tucking the letter into her pocket with a smirk.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, the usual groans filled the room when Gilderoy entered. Pomona stood up to leave, claiming she had a few Mandrakes to re-pot, but Minerva tugged on her arm.

"The Mandrakes will be fine, I'm sure," she said.

Pomona looked desperate to leave, her head swinging back and forth from Gilderoy to the door. She eventually had to sit back down with a huff as the wizard sat at the table.

He looked glum, resting his head on his elbows and not bothering to touch the plate of scrambled eggs that appeared in front of him. When the owls' usual cry of entry echoed throughout the Great Hall, he didn't even look up.

"No mail for Gilderoy, then?" Pomona whispered.

Minerva watched as the owls delivered their cargo to various students. Only one of them flew towards the long staff table, giving Irma a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ before dropping off an edition of _The Quibbler_ to Sybill. None of the creatures held envelopes addressed to Gilderoy, nor were any envelopes in the hall itself any shade of pink or purple.

She grinned and turned back to Pomona. "I have a feeling his fan mail will be on hold for quite a while," she said, reaching for her spoon.

Pomona tilted her head, but Minerva could only smile. She then scooped up a little porridge and took a bite, marvelling at just how wonderful it tasted.

* * *

 _ **A/N: This fic was written for Camp Potter run on the HPFC forum by Cheeky Slytherin Lass.**_

 _ **Week 4 Archery: Write about your favourite Hogwarts Professor.**_

 _ **Word count: 2938 words**_

 _ **Cabin: Malfoy**_


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